Gift for the Watchers
by FickleArtist
Summary: Some Christmas non-sense I wrote as a present for my watchers on dA.


Picture if you will a fairly typical mall scene during the winter holidays, a Santa letting small children sit in his lap to tell him what they want for Christmas, perhaps two or three elves to help keep those waiting happy or take an overpriced photograph. Have you got that mental image in your mind?...You there slacker, don't make me repeat myself, picture the image! I'll wait…Okay now that you've all got that happy image in your mind's eye, allow me to point out the differences between that sweet scene and the one currently taking place. First there is only one elf and Old Cris Kringle is nowhere to be seen. Graciously Mrs. Claus is filling in for him, or should I say a trio of Mrs. Claus'. As I'm sure you've guessed, or shortly will, this is not one of those sickenly sweet mall Santa deals going on. In fact this in a college 'Christmas' party meant to celebrate the end of finals by consuming _nearly_ enough alcohol to cause poisoning more the mentioned holiday. But to try to bring some holiday cheer it was asked that four or five people dress as the iconic bringer of guests, his spouse, or one of the little creatures given hardly any credit for their handiwork in creating gifts for every well behaved child across the world, credit given instead to the man who delivered them, really how fair is that?...Ahem, I digress, back to the story at hand. Now a certain individual approached the group throwing the party, asking for compensation, preferably in the form of money but an assortment of good liquor was also acceptable, in exchange for gathering a group of females to dress up as eye candy who would keep the festive spirit high throughout the party. After all, no one wants to see just any Mary Jane in an elf costume while trying to unwind from a stressful semester at school.

The sole elf with her pixie cut hair wore the typical green and red dress, shortened to the taste of the wearer, a belt, matching gloves, and green and black boots. Mrs. Claus number 1 was a blonde who was forced to wear a wig, one with curled blonde hair, in a red knee length dress with white trim along the neckline and skirt bottom, two large black buttons that served no real purpose, a wide black belt, and black gloves with white trim. Number 2 was a raven haired woman with her hair in a bun and in the strangest of the festive outfits. She wore a red tutu, a red and white striped sleeveless top, a large white bow off to one side on the waist, and knee high red socks. Finally there was Mrs. Claus number 3, a short haired brunette in a red dress with halter straps, a sweetheart neckline, and a skirt ending just above her knees, white trim along the neckline and skirt, wide coal black belt with a large buckle, and green and white striped stockings. Guests would be blissfully unaware that the brunette and blonde ladies were actually men with a fair amount of practice at being convincing crossdressers. Both would claim to have been bullied into learning to play the part, that it wasn't going to be a lot of fun to turn heads. When the night finally arrived the pair decided to cause some mischief of their own in the form of a friendly bet, one that was best never discussed ever again if the two valued their lives.

Their fiery haired elf had no problem with them enjoying themselves or making fools out of guests by having them unknowingly chase after two men who made very convincing ladies, but having the wool pulled over her own eyes meant a fate worse than death. A threat that should have been sufficient in keeping the younger three in line, should being the operative word, however it would not in this case. The winnings were far too tempting. There was a plan in place to save the winner from the brunt of her fury and years of practice in keeping some secrets between themselves.

Still on that fateful night the pair were nervous about their wager yet too stubborn to back out. And no you shall not yet be told what the wager is, enjoy the suspense for a while.

Tootie was the first to enter the fray, followed by her sister, Chester (Chelsea), and finally Timantha. Quietly the brunette weaved in and out of the crowd for a few minutes to see where the others were, thankful no one he knew was going to turn up. His best friend was shamelessly flirting with a group of freshmen boys, twirling a strand of his wig around his finger. It amazed him how comfortable his friend was with acting like a girl, easily jumping into character at a moment's notice. Seeing him, Chester waved and, for the sake of teasing every male who was looking, blew a kiss. Red faced Timmy walked off to see a tipsy tutu wearing Mrs. Claus sitting down in the midst of a drinking game. Shaking his head he finally found Vicky raiding the kitchen for something more suited to her tastes.

"Gonna stand there all night or have a drink with me?"

"What did you find?"

Motioning him over, she held up a Mason jar. She smiled devilishly at him, "brave enough to partake? And before you babble on about blindness and poisoning, I know who sold it and they're known for their product's safety."

Laughing, he accepted the jar from her, took a drink, and gave it back. A few passes back and forth then she put the jar back in its place.

"Back to work _Mrs. Claus_ or I'll have to teach you a lesson."

"Later Vicky, now go flirt with the drunken college students." He turned to leave.

"Twerpette," she pulled her boyfriend of two years back into the kitchen, "I better not catch you locking lips or grindin' on anyone."

"You won't."

Moments later while talking with some new arrivals, Mrs. Claus #3 was pulled away by M.C. #1. "Ready to lose _Timantha_?"

"Not a chance in hell Chelsea."

Alright so this bet the naïve duo made is more or less a form of chicken, if you like you could even say it was sort of like gay chicken. Both boys, posing as females, would see which of them could keep up the façade that they were in fact a pair of lovers, so a same sex couple with each half dressed as Mrs. Claus but in reality are male best friends. Does it make sense, certainly not, but this is a bet concocted by one Chester Mcbadbat, agreed to by Timmy Turner. Logic was out the window the moment the pair first spoke and hasn't been seen since. Now the trick was to go unnoticed by the third Claus and elf, as soon as either of them found out the game was over, and they were in for a world of hurt. Ideally everything would go unnoticed for the evening since if it did the pot was sweetened for the winner. Basically who could do the most insane act to show their love for the other without the girls noticing. Add alcohol's judgment impairing effects, and being intoxicated was a requirement for the game, and this simple game became a whole lot harder.

Several shots, many mixed drinks, and three hours later the friends were still undiscovered. They'd played it safe while raising their blood alcohol content, verbal teases and flirty comments. Not long ago they started getting handsy and if you think that's restricted to quick flirty touches then bless your innocent mind. No dear readers, hands slid up thighs, hands wandered during hugs, laps were sat on, and articles of clothing were teasingly lifted a bit. Some drunk found their way into the kitchen and came back with containers of chocolate spread and frosting. _Chelsea_ nearly got them caught when she licked chocolate off _Timantha's_ fingers. Judging by the faces of their audience that was currently the stunt to beat and unfortunately the one that was making the game harder than ever. There were a lot of curious onlookers drawing the attention of one extremely pissed off elf who wasn't at all in the holiday spirit. Claus #2 was quite the handful, dancing on tabletops with other guests, drinking more than was good for her, but still not enough of a distraction to keep the vigilant elf away from the other two. Wouldn't be long before they were forced to leave.

Vicky ended up dragging her sister into the house to keep her from once again climbing a fence and showing everyone outside the lovely pair of crimson chin undies she was wearing, presenting the perfect opportunity for last minute stunts. They were told that they were leaving once the raven haired girl calmed down some. She'd need some watching until then so this was do or die time to win the bet. Outside in the yard the two remaining Mrs. Claus' thinking as well as they could with alcohol muddled minds on how to win. The coast was clear, a rowdy group gave ample encouragement, so Timmy did what made sense given the circumstances, he kissed his best friend. Full blown, sloppy make out kiss that was returned by the blonde. Cheers broke them apart and declared the brunette the victor. Smug with his victory the brunette stumbled in the house with his friend close behind.

"Idiots 1 and 2, front and center." The two were pulled over to one side of the living room near the couch that was occupied by a passed out tutu wearing Mrs. Claus. "Watch Idiot 3 while I start the car."

Left alone again Chester thought about having lost to his friend. Surely there must be something he could do that would top what happened outside? Racking his brain did no good until a thought happened to cross his mind. Smirking in a way that would make his ex-babysitter proud, Chester pushed his friend against the wall. Caught off guard, the brunette wasn't prepared for the rough kiss that followed not that it stopped him from returning it. Hands on his best friend's hips, Chester kissed his neck and without giving it much thought, bit him. Needless to say the moan it earned was unexpected, hot as the sight must have been for the bystanders there was one who was less than thrilled.

One Mrs. Claus was red faced at the sight of the angry elf, the other was smug and had the nerve to gloat, you'd feel sorry for him if he hadn't brought it on himself.

Twenty minutes later a bruised up blonde man in a torn up costume was shoved into the house of a friend, said friend helping an unsteady Tootie make the short walk from the car to the front door. Meanwhile the brunette was quietly seated in the passenger seat of his girlfriend's car, waiting for his punishment as they sped off to her apartment. Silence was deadly with her, if she wasn't talking there was no way to get a read on her. Brakes squealed when they reached her apartment building and he diligently followed her inside. Standing against a wall, cowering by it really, he knew he was in for it.

"Vicky I-"

He wasn't given time to get out anymore of his apology. A hand turned his head to the side while his neck was inspected to see if he had a mark. Finding none, a satisfied growl came from the older woman. "I seem to remember someone saying he wouldn't be locking lips with anyone, so tell me," that tone, calm but dangerous at the same time, it sent a shiver down his spine, "why were you kissing Blondie?" Soft kisses were pressed to his throat trialing from under his jaw line to his collarbone.

Mouth dry, he couldn't form words to give her an answer. Not that she really wanted one. Loving when his breath hitched as her hands traveled up his legs while his own rested on her hips.

"You know I don't like others touching what's mine." More light kisses to his neck, her hands moving still higher. "Guess I'll just have to leave my mark on you won't I?"

One last kiss, right over the spot his friend bit, before he received a more painful, but still pleasurable, bite on the same spot. Had he been less intoxicated his moans would have embarrassed him, he was quite vocal. Normally he tried to stifle them with varying degrees of success but not now. She loved hearing him moan, more so when he wasn't trying to keep them quiet. Each new bite brought one, and by the time they were through, a nice mark to show everyone he was her's.


End file.
